Victorious not a victim

Lately I’ve had this overwhelming feeling that good things are coming my way. Great things. Big things. Better things. Like I have a purpose and a story to share, so I guess I’ll start by sharing it first with you, or at least part of it.

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I feel like my biggest accomplishment was falling down a spiral and pulling myself back to solid ground. I could spare you the dirty details, but I am down right proud of myself, so I wont.

Around 2007/2008 I lost several people who were dear to me. All within a year. By the time I lost my grandmother, I had let myself slip so deep into the grips of addiction that I in turn lost myself. With every passing of every loved one; I let a piece of myself slip away too.

I was quickly losing grip on my former happy go lucky self. I surrounded myself with toxic people, with the same ambitions as mine (which was none, by the way) and fell in love with the most beautiful soul. To keep private details private we’ll call him Max. Max brought a piece of life back to me that I thought I had lost.

We could tell each other anything and in spite of one another’s flaws always wound up falling deeper in love. We quickly moved in together and the addiction grew. To Max, and to the drugs. The OC’s eventually took a full grasp on both of us. More than the drugs were destroying us, we were destroying each other.

My mother was no longer my mother, not even a stranger I saw in passing. 

My family, after several attempts of trying to snap me back to reality ultimately disowned me.

I was alone in an abusive relationship taking 6-8 80mg oc’s a day before I finally woke up.
I don’t know what came over me.
I don’t know what snapped me back to reality.
One morning I woke up and thought I couldn’t keep living like that. Maybe I had finally sobered up a little bit. Maybe I finally looked in the mirror and saw all the scars Max had left on me, the reflection of a broken girl. Whatever it was something in me changed that day.
I called my mom and explained everything that had gone on between Max and I. Start to finish. Not like she didn’t already know the half of it. The marks were always there when we rarely did see each other. Anyway, fast forward a few days to my missed period (was there a better way to say that? Sorry haha). I knew it. Right away I knew it.

I was two days sober, it easily could have been the shock to my system causing me to be late, but a blood test at my doctors confirmed it.
I had broken free from the chains that were holding me back with Max and now a few days later I have to present him with this? I cursed him in my head and sobbed for a while at the doctors. Max was anything but thrilled, his words so cold and vile still ring in my ears. I would be alone in this too.

To make a long story a little shorter, the pregnancy wasn’t viable, I had lost my baby.

This came as no shock to any of us in my family, what I put my body through it was a wonder that even I survived, there was no way my body could support another living soul.
That’s not where the story ends, but perhaps I’ll save the rest for another day.
Currently, I am nearing my SIXTH YEAR of sobriety.
I am actively trying to better myself and help those around me see the light within themselves.

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I’m an advocate for broken young women and recovering addicts. I will make my voice heard and I will make a difference. I will help people over come difficulty in all aspects and I will do so humbly with grace and conviction. I have enough dreams to fill every inch of the galaxy and enough determination to make them come true.

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